It Was Enough
by greenk
Summary: A one-shot based on 'To Love and Die in L.A.' A missing scene. After the case wraps up, Castle and Beckett take a walk on the beach to relax. Just a friendly little stroll, purely platonic. Right.


Hey, guys. This is actually the first time I've written a fanfic for Castle. Though, I have read quite a few. This story is a late one-shot based on 'To Love and Die in L.A.' I missing scene, if you will. Though, I wrote the majority of this little fanfic the week before the episode actually aired…at least 2,500 of the 3,000+ words. It was meant to be posted beforehand, but I was on a short vacation from Thursday until Monday, and by the time I got back home, the episode had already aired. What a bummer.

But hopefully, you're still interested enough to be reading. If this story did spark your interest, please tell me via reviews. It would be much appreciated, positive or negative. Or simply constructive.

This one-shot jumps from Castle's POV to Beckett's and then back. The breaks are meant to indicate the jumping. But I'm really not terribly good at staying in a consistent point of view. For that, I apologize, especially if it causes any confusion. Oh, and please do let me know if I got the tone of the characters right.

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't be ridiculous. If I owned Castle, you wouldn't be watching.

* * *

><p>It had been a long couple of days for the both of them, but especially for her. Very long, <em>very<em> stressful days. So he had suggested a walk on the beach to wind down. He assured her it would be just what she needed, and surprisingly, she accepted his offer.

So here they were, feet kicking up sand as they walked side by side, eyes focused on the horizon. He had realized the setting was bordering on more than just platonic as soon as they'd approached, and he could only hope she wouldn't come to the same conclusion. That would just make it awkward for the both of them. Because they were just partners, even if unconventional and she had a boyfriend much to his resentment.

Not that he didn't want her to be happy. No, he cared too deeply about her to deny her that. He'd only hoped that she could someday find a bit of that happiness with him because he'd be more than happy to have her. But he cherished their friendship too much to push her into anything, and he knew that she valued their little arrangement more than she'd ever admit. Was it cowardice that kept them apart, or was it just his imagination that she could ever feel for him what he felt for her?

He had gathered the knowledge over the years that first impressions were crucial in any relationship, professional or otherwise. He could only cringe to think of what her first impression of him must have been when she met him face to face several years ago. Back then, to anyone besides the lovely redheads who shared his DNA, he was just a playboy novelist who didn't know when to grow up. He was a perpetual man-child and an incorrigible flirt. And he knew that this was how she must have viewed him too…why she must have resented him so when he began shadowing her. Though things were different now, he couldn't help but wonder if that terrible first impression still lingered with her. He wouldn't blame her if it did. He knew that he came with a lot of baggage. There were two ex wives and leagues of other women, many nameless, that he'd carry with him for the rest of his days.

No, Richard Castle was not the safe choice by any means.

But then he met her. Courageous, selfless, bold, and witty; she had long legs that went on for miles and gorgeous eyes filled with compassion for others and a drive to succeed. To him, she was as close to perfection as any mortal soul could come. She was fearless. She was _extraordinary_.

And just being around her made him want to change, made him want to be a better person…a person who deserved someone like her. When he was around her, the debonair author persona he put on seemed to make itself scarce, and all of his insecurities came to light. But he didn't care, and he knew the reason why. It was the reason he'd stick around her forever if she'd let him.

Yes, he'd known that he was in love with Kate Beckett for some while now.

She briefly interrupted his thoughts as her shoulder lightly brushed his when they neared the shore. His muse interrupting his musings; it made the writer in him smile foolishly. Suddenly, she came to a halt at the water's edge, gently grazing her fingertips over his arm to get his attention. And once she had it, she graced him with a sad half-smile. He couldn't bring himself to do the same, but he hoped his eyes returned the gesture.

She looked at him in slight confusion, scanning his gaze for the answer to her unasked question before brushing it off and dipping a toe into the waves. She was incredibly perceptive. Most times, he felt like she could read him like one of his books, page by page. But other times, he was in awe of her obliviousness when it came to his feelings for her. Everyone else could see it: his mother, his daughter, the boys at the precinct, random suspects in the interrogation room. But maybe it was for the best.

"Castle," she spoke his name in a gentle voice almost as if speaking to a child. She sounded _careful_.

"Beckett," he returned, with a boyish grin. She could hear it in his voice and turned her head to give him her trademark eye roll. This back and forth between them had become second nature, easy and familiar.

"I just wanted to thank you," she paused, only emphasizing the seriousness of the words, "…for everything. After I heard about Royce, I wasn't thinking rationally. I'm glad that you came. You kept me grounded, and it really means a lot to me. More than you know." She let out an anxious breath, almost embarrassed at her confession. But she was silly for feeling that way, he thought. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

"Always," he spoke as if it was nothing at all.

He watched her eye him skeptically, and he could feel his adoration for her seeping to the surface. Her eyes widened slightly. He knew that look. It was the look she gave him whenever she'd catch him staring too long, not understanding why. So oblivious sometimes, he shook his head. But she wasn't going to let it go this time.

"What are you thinking?"

He just smiled sheepishly, "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Kate scoffed at him in mock indignation, and he took a few steps forward into the water, holding out his arm to her and bracing himself with eyes squeezed shut. It took a few moments for her to understand his intentions, but then she smiled widely, pulling back her elbow and socking him in the shoulder. "You know, I really shouldn't be surprised with that answer."

He rubbed his arm in feigned injury and then put his hand to his chest. "Detective, you wound me." She couldn't hold back her laugh and he gladly chuckled along with her. "I deserved it, I know."

Once the laughter stopped, she bent down a bit to roll up her slacks, exposing her tan calves to his wandering eyes. She looked up at him with one eyebrow raised teasingly, and suddenly he was spluttering salt water. He gaped at her expression of pure deviousness. "Oh, Katherine Beckett, you are _so_ dead."

She sloshed through the water, trying to put as much distance between them as possible, but he wouldn't have it. He hooked one finger around her belt loop and went to strike the water in her direction with the other arm, but she jerked away, and suddenly he was on his back, half in the water and half lying on the damp sandy shore. It dizzily registered in his brain that his partner had also fallen and was now sprawled over his torso in the most compromising of positions. He lifted his head slightly to peer down into her bulging eyes and in that moment forgot how to breathe. Of course, she was first to recover, rolling off of him and onto her side in a panic.

"Castle, what the hell?"

He turned his body to face her and held his hands up in innocence, and she tried to huff at him angrily, but then her expression softened. He could see her reacting to their close proximity, body tensing ever so slightly. Her hair was splayed out in an angelic fashion, and the setting sun created a sort of glow around her. He was transfixed, and before he could stop himself, he was pressing a chaste kiss to the juncture between her jaw and the long, pale column of her neck.

"_Castle_," she gasped in mixed astonishment and something else entirely. Or perhaps that was just his imagination. Wishful thinking.

He lowered his head ashamedly and sighed, "_Kate_." Her name sounded like an apology.

"Rick," she tried, voice straining.

"I…I'm sorry," his breath hitched in his throat, and it took another moment before he could continue. "Sometimes the writer in me really doesn't know when to take a hint and quit while he's ahead." He desperately pleaded with the universe that she wouldn't take notice of the hint of sorrow behind his words, but the expression on her face told him all he needed to know. The universe had let him down again.

He rolled awkwardly onto his back and then into a sitting position which in turn became a standing position. Still, she remained frozen in place on her side, now facing his bare feet with a look that resembled some form of pity. Pity for him. Despite the discomfiture, he stood waiting for a reaction. Any reaction would suffice. Better a negative and perhaps violent reaction from Beckett than none at all.

She finally let out a tired sigh. "I'll see you up there. Think I'm just going to lie here for a couple more minutes."

He knew she was dismissing him. There was nothing left for him to do but comply and make his escape with whatever dignity he still possessed…if any. Richard Castle and _dignity_ had never quite gone hand in hand.

* * *

><p>She sat in the damp sand, waves lapping at her feet for an eternity or so.<p>

_Oh God._ He'd _kissed_ her. Richard Castle had kissed her _again_. Her heart thudded madly inside of her chest. And afterwards…he'd just looked so damn _depressed_. She couldn't help but feel like she'd just kicked a poor, defenseless puppy. But at the same time, he was just maddening. Infuriating, even. He had no right to run rampant in her emotions, sabotaging her…_thing_ with the "perfect man." A doctor, no less.

But then back flooded the guilt. It wasn't his fault really. It wasn't as if he was deliberately tampering with what she had with Josh. He just made it so hard for her sometimes to remember why she kept trying to hold on to the relationship with the cardiac surgeon. Thoughts like that made her feel guilty too. Because Josh really was a great guy. He travelled to distant countries and helped sick children and _saved lives_. But deep down inside, she knew he could never be her "one and done." She lived and breathed her job just as much as he did. But she was stubborn and hardheaded and wanted to fix something that had never really broken. It just _was_.

That was enough of that for the night, she decided. From there, her thoughts would only journey to more terrifying places. And she didn't want to have to deal with any more of _those_ thoughts tonight. Not now, not here. She kept the tape on the package in her mind labeled 'Feelings for My Partner, Rick Castle' sealed and shoved it deep into the storages of 'Ignore in the Preservation of Sanity.'

Once inside the suite, she paid no attention to the writer's bedroom door hanging wide open. Instead, she opted for a relaxing shower, letting the sand that was caked to her feet and her anxieties wash down the drain.

Showered, and feeling particularly daring, she towel dried her hair and wondered back out into the sitting room. She couldn't help but peek in through the door across from hers. And there he lay, a motionless lump, face flat on the sheets, unclean feet hanging off the mattress.

"You're going to get sand everywhere."

The lump contemplated for a moment and then spoke. "It's a little too late for that, I think."

She readied her best scolding voice and leaned into the doorway. "Hey." He still remained immobile, and she tried again. "Hey, you. Shower. _Now_."

He tossed over onto his back and craned his neck forward a little to give her a scrutinizing eye before rolling off the bed and slinking into the bathroom with a pouty frown. She just shook her head at him. He was such a nine-year-old sometimes. It was almost hard to believe he'd actually been raising one at a point in his life. At least until she saw the two together, and saw the way his eyes would shine when looking at his little girl, now all grown up. It gave her a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, where butterflies beat their wings like mad.

She realized that she'd been standing in his doorway for a good fifteen minutes when she heard the stream of water shut off, and her first impulse was to panic. _Mayday, mayday. Subject approaching. Retreat, retreat._

Against all better judgment, she stayed rooted at the spot, her feet refusing to move an inch. The bathroom door swung open, and with it came a curtain of steam. And there was Rick Castle, sporting nothing but a pair of plaid boxers and a damp towel around his neck. He looked just as shocked to see her standing there as she did at his state of undress.

Thankfully, she was able to react quickly enough. A hand went up to shield her eyes and she bowed her head in shame. "Oh, sorry. I don't know what I…umm, I'll just let you change now."

Before he could reply, she had half slammed his door shut in a tizzy and was leaning against it trying to catch her breath, face flushed. _Stupid. So stupid, s_he mentally berated herself. What had she been thinking? Catching her partner practically naked after what had happened merely an hour or so earlier down at the beach. This called for a glass of wine. No, make that scotch. She marched into the kitchen and began to rummage through the cabinets.

She had just found a glass and was about to begin her search for the whiskey when she heard the author's door pop open. She turned towards the soft sound of his voice.

"You look exhausted."

She fixed him with a glare. At least he was dressed now. He donned a white, cotton t-shirt and a satin robe, tied to partially cover his midsection and the top of his knee-length, black shorts. "Thanks, Castle. You really know how to make a girl feel special." She was just trying to make him squirm a little; ease the tension between them with a light ribbing. But she immediately regretted the words when she saw the hurt on his face.

"I didn't mean it like _that_, Beckett. It's just; it's been a rough couple of days. You should get some rest, you know?"

She was feeling remorseful, and tried again to mend the situation with another good-hearted rag. "So plaid, huh?"

It took a moment for the words to register in his head, but to her relief his mouth turned up into an amused smirk. "Why, were you expecting silk? Looney Toons, maybe?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Plaid just seems so…_conservative_. I would have pegged you for a Star Wars kind of guy."

His smirk grew into a full-out grin, "Nah. Wore those yesterday."

She couldn't tell if he was just teasing or being perfectly serious, and she supposed she'd never know. He was certainly full of surprises. Good and bad, but mostly good.

"But," he added hesitantly, "You're avoiding the subject."

Damn. He'd seen right through that one. How was it that he knew her so well? "I just needed a drink, okay?" Damn it again, she'd meant to say 'wanted.' _Wanted_ a drink, not _needed_. God knows, he'd make assumptions about why she _needed_ it. Perfectly correct assumptions. She saw his eyebrows lift slightly, but hoped he'd know by now to leave well enough alone.

And he knew. So he pushed on. "You need to get some sleep. We have an early flight to catch tomorrow."

And at that moment, fight or flight finally decided to kick in. Right now, she was feeling _fight_. "And how about you, Castle? You look about twice as tired as I feel." And it was true. He looked worn and weary from all that had occurred recently.

"I'm going to sleep too. Just wanted to see if I could persuade you to do the same first."

She let out a ragged sigh. "In a bed full of sand?"

He looked over his shoulder, back at his bed thoughtfully. "I can deal. And if not, there's always the couch. Which is plenty comfy, I can assure you. Don't worry about me."

Before she knew what she was doing, her feet were making their way across the sitting room floor, and her hand was reaching up to grasp the sleeve of his robe. She was absolutely terrified by her own actions, but there was no turning back now. She dragged his sleepy feet through her bedroom door and felt him gasp beside her. Releasing his robe, she pulled back her blankets and crawled into bed, patting the empty space on the sheets to her right. But he just stood there, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"I don't bite," she said softly, and looked into his baffled blue eyes to beckon him forward. He took one step, then two. She turned her body to the opposite side of the bed, facing away from him and trying to gain some distance from his nearing form.

"But, Beckett…" he started unsurely.

"Castle, we're both adults. Just get under the covers." It came out as more of a snap than she would have liked, but he obeyed, easing in beside her. "No funny business."

"Of course." His deep voice sent shivers up her spine. "Good night, Beckett."

She let out a slow, long yawn in spite of herself. "_Night, Castle_."

* * *

><p>He laid there staring at the ceiling for a while, unable to shut his brain off with the detective sleeping in such close proximity. Shortly after lying down, she'd tossed in her sleep and was now facing his side, nose pressed into his shoulder. He really was bushed, but the woman beside him was distracting as hell. He scooted toward the edge of his side of the bed and turned to stare at her sleeping form. She looked so…peaceful in slumber. So serene. Her lips parted slightly in an expression of complete and utter adorableness. A piece of her wavy hair had fallen across her cheek, and his fingers ached to brush it behind her ear. Though, he didn't dare take action on that impulse. He was too afraid that she'd wake, realize what a foolish idea it was to invite him into her bed, and force him out to sleep on the couch.<p>

No, he wouldn't act tonight. He'd have to be content with what she'd offered him. He wouldn't always be satisfied to pretend like he didn't have feelings for her. Something would have to give. Someday, he told himself, he'd be able to do all those things he'd wanted to do for so long. To brush the hair behind her ear, to trace the contours of her mouth, to hold her in his arms all night. They couldn't dance on the fine line between friends and something _more_ forever. But for now, he'd take what he could get.

For now, it was enough.

* * *

><p>Wow. That was longer than I'd first intended. Please, tell me what you thought. Reviews are love.<p>

-GreenK


End file.
